


The Patchwork Teacup

by queen_insane



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal wins sort of, Let's go with that, M/M, Metaphors Everywhere, Minor Character Death, Post 2x13 Mizumono sort of, Spoilers for Mizumono, Will/Hannibal is really if you squint, also metaphors, can you call it that?, closer to darkish will really, dark!Will, misuse of tea cups, misuse of tea items honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_insane/pseuds/queen_insane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of the characters through tea set comparisons with a very human Hannibal. This also works as a quasi-fix-it-fic for Mizumono.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Patchwork Teacup

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote something like this for another fandom, so if you somehow also read that fic and are reading this one, don't panic, it's the same author. The idea just fit so well for this fandom too that I had to do a semi-rewrite.

Will is a cup. A beautiful bone white, porcelain teacup. Cracks run throughout his body, and show that he has shattered and broken before. The way that the glue pieces him together shows that perhaps he has been broken many times before. But sitting on the shelf of his owner’s house he is whole, and unbroken. Each day he is taken out of his shelf and shined so that the whole world can see his beauty; buffed and polished until you wouldn’t think twice to look at the cracks or the scars. In fact, most people laugh and enjoy themselves while holding this cup, they don’t think twice that once it leaked liquid all over the floor. Those that realize the cup has scars, and make fun of the cup for how it looks, those people do not last long in the house that the cup calls home. In fact the cup finds that these people usually disappear altogether. Then the cup gets to appear on the dinner table next to finery it doesn’t think it quite matches up to, for lavish meals filled with all sorts of succulent meat. On those nights its owner always uses the cup as his own and for that, these nights are the cups favorite. He loves the way it feels when the owner’s lips brush over his rim delicately to take a sip. 

The cup knows that it used to have other friends. There was a beautiful small silver stirring spoon that his owner used to use in tandem him when he was filled with tea. A spoon that he was close friends with and thought he could almost love. In fact other than his owner this spoon was the person he leaned on most when his cracks got to him, it always seemed to want the best for him. But one day the spoon tasted bitter in his tea and as the days passed this bitter flavor continued to grow. Finally his owner threw the spoon away. It was only then that the cup realized that the spoon had begun to rust and that he was no longer compatible with it. 

Other than the spoon there had been another cup used for tea, a bigger mug that the cup had always been placed next to. The mug intimidated the cup, tall and foreboding it was able to hold more tea than him. Not to mention that it came in a set of two with another smaller cup that matched it. One day however the smaller cup broke and somehow the larger mug never seemed the same. It was still scary and mean, but sadder somehow. Part of the tiny white cup mourned the passing of the other teacup, but it was also glad that some of the pressure that the mug seemed to impart upon him had passed.

His favorite in the end had to have been a little sugar dish. The little sugar dish always came out off the shelf when he did. It, like the mug had come in a set (although this one had come in a set of three). The other two sugar dishes it had come with were plain and unassuming yet this one looked like it had been made in a far off Asian country. Beautiful splashes of color decorated it and it was inlaid with gold. It always had stories to tell and it filled the teacup with joy each time one of its small sugar cubes dropped into its bitter concoction. Together they gave the mug a run for its money, their tea proving that there was always quality over quantity. However one day the man came in with a new sugar bowl, one that was fancy and of Italian design. The replacement was swift and without warning and the cup knew that it would never be the same again. When the French one broke a few weeks later, and the beautiful Asian sugar dish didn’t return the tiny teacup was heartbroken. His owner started using the other two sugar dishes that had come with the Asian one, but the damage had been done. Never would there be a lovelier sugar dish than the one that had been cast aside so needlessly. 

Time passed and dishes came and went, and the little patched-up teacup remained. One day the man reached into the shelf and pulled the little cup down to set it on the table. The cup wondered what was happening and couldn’t believe his eyes when the raven black porcelain teacup it had been brought with was put down next to it. A long time ago it had fallen from the shelf the two cups had been on and its handle had broken off. The storm that had caused the cup to fall had rattled the house and left the little white teacup alone, and friendless. But now here it was again. He watched in awe as his owner worked slowly but carefully to re-attach the handle that had broken off, and fix the small black teacup. As he fixed the small cup he spoke out loud to himself. That was how the small cup found out that they were moving away. Now the small bone white cup had been afraid at first thinking about it, but knowing that he would have his companion little raven cup with him made him fearless and bold. He couldn’t wait to travel the world, to see all sorts of places and all sorts of people. To serve all sorts of different tea. After all the hurt he had suffered here, from losing the sugar dish to the disappointment of the stirring spoon, he is ready to move on. Ready to change and become something better in a different place. Secretly, in these dreams, he hopes that they leave the big mug behind. 

And if anyone really mocks him, or the little black teacup, he is sure that his owner will make them disappear too. Just like he always does.


End file.
